


drinks for two

by azureforest



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Bartender AU, Lounge AU, Modern AU, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: contrary to both his hopes and popular belief, smooth jazz and low, ambient lighting doesn't make crushing on someone any easier.(or: edleo bartender au, in which edward really needs to get a grip on himself and leonardo really has to learn how to make friends.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> ive been filing at this for literal months. behold, the edleo bartender au noone asked for ft. not entirely reliable narrator edward and the weirdass friendship he and micaiah have. 
> 
> to think i initially started this just to have billiard boy leonardo
> 
> anyways. without further ado, here we goooo

The lights of the lounge were turned low, soft and blue against the black polished counters, glinting off the silver and glass stacked in the shelves behind the pouty bartender. His elbows rested on the surface as he leaned forwards, slacking off for just a moment- The bar had been slow today, unusually so, and his favorite regular remained unseen for the night- It was odd, really, he was always here at nine on the dot on Wednesdays, in a crisp white shirt, tie and sweater vest ensemble, long blond hair tied back into a half-ponytail, steel-rimmed glasses perched on a sharp nose, framing slate-blue eyes, looking like he’d more likely be in a bookstore or a café rather than here.

Not that Edward minded. The guy was really cute. And he was always lugging his laptop around- Working, on a Wednesday night, even when the jazz bands dragged their cellos and saxophones and keyboards and audio-whatsits onto the stage, even when it was open mic night. He always came alone, sat at that same seat at the wall every time, sunken into the soft sofa, usually for an hour or two, out of sight of the entrance and at decent distance to the bar so that Edward had to actively lean over the counter to see him clearly. Sometimes he forwent the laptop in favor of a book- Usually some historical novel or a classic, sometimes a detective novel, on rarer occasions some sappy romance shtick that screamed “corny” by a single look at the cover.

But every so often, he ordered something from the bar, no more than one drink per night, almost always a Mojito, sometimes a glass of pink lemonade when he didn’t seem up to alcohol. Edward’s never seen him inebriated before. Which was really odd. He’s been coming here for months. Edward’s seen every one of his shift regulars tipsy, at the very least, at least once. And kicked out about a fifth of them at least once, too.

He wasn’t the oddest guest, though, but after Edward’s extensive observation ( _not_ stalking, thank you), he decided he liked the guy best. Not that he ordered drinks often. Not that he actually talked to the bartender despite being a Wednesday night regular, and Wednesday nights were pretty darn slow. But he was, as mentioned before, really cute. Interesting, too, in the “ _I’d really like to get to know you and be friends with you_ ” way.

And, well, maybe he had a raging crush on him. From the graceful air around him right down to the surprisingly informal slip-on shoes he wore and everything inbetween, including the pale pianist’s fingers curling around the glass of Mojito, the quiet, but authoritative tone of his voice whenever he ordered his drink in complete and utter polite detachment, the way he leaned down towards the pool table during billiard sessions, eyes seeing nothing other than the game.

And boy, could he play billiard like noone’s business. Poise unparalleled, perfectly calculated angles and impact, the rattle of spheres, rolling, clacking, falling down the corners, music to both their ears. He dominated the pool table in every form of billiards he was taken on in- If there ever was more than one, Edward wasn’t sure, he didn’t know enough, but that wasn’t relevant. The bartender had no idea how the guy did it- He’s never seen him lose, either.

Thinking of it, he’s never seen him do a lot of things. And one of those was being late. Like today. Blunt fingernails tapped impatiently on the counter as his pout grew, grey eyes looking around the lounge almost worriedly- The guy didn’t seem like the type to be tardy for _anything_. Edward hazarded a glance at his phone, licking chapped lips. Eleven past nine. Sweet niblets, was he late. The brunet returned to staring holes at the entrance of the lounge, drawing the attention of his coworker, who raised her eyebrows a bit questioningly.

As if on cue, or as if fate decided to spare him a minor freakout at the very least, the blond came striding through the entrance after a few moments of Edward’s intense staring contest with the wall paneling. His messenger bag was slung over his shoulder as always, but he looked distinctly more disgruntled than usual- Blue eyes glinted with what must have been agitation, usually neat hair was just a bit windblown, stray strands falling out of their normal ponytail and framing his face, his knuckles white from gripping the strap of his bag too hard. But he still strode over to his usual spot as if nothing were wrong, ever a creature of habit, dug in his bag and procured yet another novel- A memoir, by the looks of it. Edward frowned, idly gnawing at his lip as his coworker looked back and forth between the blond and the brunet. She let out a quiet sigh, pausing in drying off the washed glasses to brush a lock of silver hair behind her ear.

“Edward, you have to do something about this.”

He started, tearing his eyes away from the now-reading blond who, by the way, still looked considerably upset, albeits thankfully less so than moments prior. “About what?”

Micaiah sighed, tilted the glass towards the light, before putting it down and looking straight at the other bartender, golden eyes seeming as if they were looking straight into his soul, reading his every thought- And honestly, he wouldn’t even be surprised if they actually were. But her voice was soft, understanding, giving him room to run from the question, but keeping him pinned at the same time by something caused more by himself rather than her.

“You know what I mean.”

The young man shuffled a little, avoided her knowing gaze, reached for a glass as an excuse to do so, joining her in dish-drying duty. “But, c’mon, what am I supposed to do right _now_? The guy’s obviously had a bad day or something. I don’t wanna make it worse.” He paused, looked a bit sullen, voice dropping lower into a conspiratorial whisper. “Something’s up, Micky. I know you can tell.”

Micaiah tilted her head, put her glass away. “It’s not like you to be this hesitant.” Picking up another, resumed her task alongside her coworker. “Still, it’s a perfect opportunity. A break in the status quo often invites even more. Your horoscope even had something among those lines this week.”

Edward wrinkled his nose, nearly dropped his glass. “You still check my horoscope?” A nod in reply, coupled with an almost wry smile that looked a bit out of place on her face. He pouted some more. “Hey, don’t make fun of me.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She laughed a little, more a series of near-silent exhales rather than an actual laugh, and her smile softened again. “Jokes aside, I still think you should talk to him sometime tonight. Fate’s in your favor.”

“Of course you’d say that, oh great Silver-Haired-Maiden, blessed by the power of foresight by the gods-”

“Edward.”

“-the Fates themselves guiding her every step as she brings about both good news and bad-“

She sighed again. “You’re nervous.”

Edward’s jaw snapped shut as he reached for another glass, but found none left on the pile. He stared, disbelieving at the empty space for a few seconds at the loss of occupation, before looking back to Micaiah, who was holding her recently-cleaned glass out to him. The brunet looked like a child caught giving his vegetables to the dog under the table for a few moments, before growing defensive, snatching the glass from her hands and putting it down on the counter in front of him.

“S-so what if I am?”

His hands were already reaching for the lime wedges, mint leaves and sugar on reflex, and Micaiah laughed, a bit too knowingly for comfort. So what if he’d already memorized how to make a Mojito? It was a pretty common drink, a classic, etcetera etcetera etcetera- It’s not like he, uh, perfected it for the one guy who ordered it consistently, no, nope, not at all. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt.

His fingers fumbled for the muddler as his coworker shook her head, again, finally having the grace to try to stifle her laughter behind her hand- It wasn’t really effective, but if Edward weren’t busy trying to get his face to cool down as he mashed the mint and lime, he might’ve appreciated the gesture.

“Look, even if I were nervous- Stop laughing, Mick, I’m not, I swear- I don’t have any real reason to go up to him, right?”

The brunet mashed the lime slice especially hard, upon which the lime slice decided it was fed up with the abuse and flicked juice in his eye. Edward stifled a scream. Micaiah snorted especially loudly, before immediately bursting into a mass of concerned inquiries punctuated by more laughter on whether or not the brunet was alright while escorting him to the sink- This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, he’d once been dumb enough to rub his eyes right after peeling onions, after all, but at least it hadn’t happened on a Wednesday night, after nine PM, and especially not while blond-pretty-man was around- After freeing his eyes from the acidic clutch of the demon-fruit (his sight was okay, thank god), Edward frantically scrambled towards the bar counter, poked his head out a little and checked to see if the regular had noticed.

Well, _duh_ , of course he would’ve noticed a racket like that. But he didn’t look like he did. He was still curled up on the couch all serenely, the bottom half of his face obscured by the book his eyes were glued to. Edward squinted. He looked abnormally calm, _too_ innocent, actually, maybe it was an act- Then blue eyes darted up to meet his, widening first in surprise, before smiling and sparkling in amusement. Had it been any situation that wouldn’t have warranted for complete and utter mortification, the brunet might’ve swooned and been swept straight off his feet.

Instead, the bartender tore his eyes away, stumbling back from the counter with a strangled noise that might’ve been a shriek had it not been strangled in the first place, straight into Micaiah, who’d turned away seconds prior- Who, naturally, reacted by immediately wrestling him into a headlock out of sheer reflex. She released him no less than two seconds later with profuse apologies, but the damage to his pride had already been done, more wounding than any of the surprisingly vicious punches his coworkers tiny hands could possibly throw- Edward collapsed on a tiny stool behind the counter and hid his face in his hands, firmly refusing to look at the half-finished Mojito, or Micaiah, and least of all the cute guy who was probably laughing at him across the room for about a full two minutes.

“ _He saaaaaw_.” He lamented, finally, voice a high, tiny whine, audible only to those close enough to the counter to hear it, the perfect image of a sulking grade-school kid. Micaiah patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, still looking dangerously close to cracking up, but keeping it down to spare Edward’s _very_ hurt feelings.

“Now he’ll _never_ be able to see me as even _remotely_ cool, not after _thaaat_ …”

Micaiah’s grin grew a little at that as she shifted to look him in the eye. “You have plenty of cool moments, Edward. Today just wasn’t the day. And you’ve had way worse than lime juice too- Remember the chili pepper incident?”

Edward groaned. “Don’t remind me! Tormod dared me to, I didn’t think-!”

“That proves,” Micaiah continued, cutting him off before he could start nervously rambling to her, crossing her arms, seeming much larger than her actual tiny stature. “-that the Edward _I_ know isn’t a quitter. You can’t back down from a little Mojito, right? That’d be-” Her eyes narrowed, lighting up with something like a challenge. “- the _pinnacle_ of uncool. Don’t give up just yet!”

His mouth opened, closed, reminiscent of a gaping fish, before his lips rearranged into a pout. “I’m never biting into a pepper like that ever again. I thought I was gonna _die_ , man. It would’ve been all over the news, Micky: Daein Bartender Dies of Pepper, Not Even a Gallon of Cola Could Save Him-”

She interrupted again before he could go on a full tangent, patting him on the shoulder again, gently, handing him the rum encouragingly. “That’s more like it. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

 Edward took the bottle, looking very much like he’d rather down the whole thing instead of mix a drink with it, licked his lips, stood up again, and trotted back to the vengeful drink. Eyed the lime slices warily for a full five seconds until Micaiah gave him a mock disapproving look.

Nevertheless, he had the rest of it done in record time- Not that adding ice and rum and soda was hard- And found his legs carrying him over to the blond as soon as he had it finished. He could see Micaiah give him an encouraging thumbs-up out of the corner of his eye.

Halfway on his way there, he slowed, humiliated all over again- He’d just disappeared behind the counter for the better part of what looked like (and actually was) a temper tantrum/sulk-session, and despite what his coworker said, the man probably thought him a complete and utter idiot by now. The soda bubbled up in its cup as if laughing at him, and Edward wrinkled his nose at it. _Fuckin’ **thanks**_ , he nearly grumbled, but talking to a beverage would probably make the cute guy think he’s crazy on top of his probably already-established status of a lame klutz. Which he wasn’t, by the way. _No one_ could say he’s a true klutz after playing DDR with him. Which the blond hasn’t done yet. Heck.

Blue eyes staring up at him in confusion brought him back to the present, and upon realizing that he’d already ended up at the blond’s table over the span of the third (fourth? he was losing count-) freakout of the evening, (this couldn’t be healthy,) he laughed nervously, bringing up the courage to set down the drink with uncharacteristically shaky hands, which thankfully happened without further incident- Maybe Murphy’s Law didn’t have its clutches on him just yet.

“I… I’m afraid I didn’t order anything, sir?”

Oh _shit_ , he was even cuter when confused. Edward scratched the back of his head, looking away before his natural lack of a verbal filter could betray him. He mentally scrambled for something halfway intelligent or impressive to say as he did so- Something that preferably wasn’t an extract of the Bee Movie script. Of which he had _at least_ three copies on his phone. Thanks, Tormod.

“Um, uh.” He started instead, like an absolute idiot. The blond set down his book and raised an eyebrow, waiting with the patience of a saint. Edward began pulling at the collar of his shirt nervously, smiling out of habit- It seemed to work, though, and the blond sent him a hesitant smile back, gesturing slowly for him to continue.

“W-ell. You uhm, looked a little stressed, so I- I thought a drink might do you good?” The bartender cringed at how his voice squeaked near the end, hands retreating back from his shirt so he can twiddle his thumbs instead, rocking back on his heels. “The drink’s on the house, by the way! And uh, if you don’t want a Mojito I guess I could get you something else, you just always order one and I thought-“

“No, it’s fine, really- Thank you. I might’ve actually needed this.” The blond interrupted, as gently as a person could probably interrupt another, holding up a hand placatingly. Edward’s jaw snapped shut, before he managed a grin, scratching the back of his head again with an embarrassed laugh, cheeks growing pink. The blond reached for the cup, taking a sip with a contented smile.

“Excellent, as always. Again, thank you.” He added, moments later, voicing his approval- Edward’s heart does a little somersault, before running around the inside of his chest as if the ribs were some weird simile of a jungle gym. He stammered out some sort of thanks, looking very much like he’d chicken out and run away any second because holy _wow_ , cute blond dude was _complimenting_ him, was this real life?

“And,” he continued, licking his lips before continuing, “I’m terribly sorry for laughing at you earlier- I heard the ruckus and couldn’t help but look over. I hope your eye’s okay?”

Oh. There’s the embarrassment again. But recalling blue eyes lighting up and shining in mirth, Edward already found himself forgiving him- That is, if there really was anything to forgive in the first place. And well, in hindsight, his screw-ups were usually pretty darn funny, if any of the video clips Volug managed to catch meant anything, and if something he did made the blond laugh, then so be it- Even if the thing was really stupid. Like lime juice. Lime juice is stupid.

So the brunet let out a little bark of laughter, laughed it off with a too-broad gesture, and beamed. “Yeah, no harm done! S’not that bad, y’know- A little lime juice won’t get me down! Eye’s still working and all.”

Edward tapped the side of his head twice for emphasis, and the blond looked relieved, hands cupping the drink almost protectively as he smiled, one more time- The brunet nearly choked on his extra-witty and professional addition, but that disaster was quickly averted as he just grinned wider in return.

“Anyways, pleased to be of service,” He gave a little salute, the heels of his work shoes clicking together audibly as he stood to attention like a little toy soldier. “Break Before Dawn’s always happy to welcome you, Mr. -”

He trailed off. Grey eyes widened a little as the brunet’s hand slackened, but remained placed awkwardly on his head. His gaze flitted back to the blond- He may or may not have only just noticed he forgot to ask for his name. Edward silently hoped his helpless stare communicated his panic, but also really, really hoped it didn’t. Blondie caught on quickly, though.

“Heriet. Leonardo Heriet.” He supplied, helpfully, and the bartender quickly picked back up on where he left off, (un)professional as ever, as if nothing had happened, returning to his earlier proud stance with another click of his shoes, throwing in a tilt of his head and wink for good measure.

“-Leonardo! Holler for Edward if you need me, you hear? Wednesdays are usually pretty slow, so I’ll probably be free if you need anything.”

Leonardo let out a short exhale of a chortle shortly after his introduction, covering his mouth with his hand, and the brunet took it as a good sign as his arms returned to his sides and he bounced on his heels, maybe a little too excited at the fact that he finally had blond billiard-master’s- Leonardo’s name. It suited him, somehow, Edward thought as he turned around with a hopefully effortless and cool wave- Leonardo sounded cool and elegant and fancy. Like some sort of classic protagonist in one of those novels the blond carted around.

“I’ll be getting back to work- Stop by if you want a refill?”

He hoped Leonardo was still smiling when his reply came: “Of course- Thank you, Edward.”

 

\--

 

The illusion of the cool and quirky bartender shattered as soon as he set foot back behind the counter and made sure Leonardo wasn’t watching- Edward dramatically flopped onto a stool to relieve his wobbly legs and cheered silently as Micaiah looked on, amused smile, hand on her hip and all.

“I got his _naaaame_! I got his name, Micky!” the brunet whisper-hissed, grey eyes shining in excitement as he sat up on the stool and leaned over, tan hands going white from his grip on the stool.

“You’re acting like you just got his number.” The silver-haired girl shot back, looking very amused, but happy, nonetheless, as she polished a wine glass out of what had once been sheer boredom. “Still, it went well, didn’t it? I knew you could do it!”

She laughed, reached out to ruffle the taller’s messy brown hair, then tilted her head appreciatively towards the speakers softly playing jazz music. Edward nearly fell off the stool at the motion, but he beamed back at her, obviously very proud of his own accomplishment, as small as it was- He released his grip on the stool to slide back off to his feet, any anxiety from earlier evaporating to the point Micaiah could hardly believe this was the same whining Edward from earlier. A little cackle left his lips as he pushed the stool back under the counter with a fluid motion, practically danced over to a stack of silverware left unsorted and threw open the drawer to put them where they belong, hummed a tune along to the radio and the clink of cake forks.

“Edward, seriously, if anyone else could see you right now, they might actually think you love your job.”

The brunet turned around at the sound of Micaiah’s voice, bumped the drawer closed with a swing of his hips and a cheeky thumbs-up, squinty eyes and the dazzling grin of someone who might’ve just as well gotten proposed to.

“Whoever said I didn’t?”

Micaiah blinked, once, twice, before rolling her eyes, opening the next drawer and quipping back: “Just this morning, don’t you remember? You texted me about it. And the day before that, and the day before that, too-“

Arms raised in a mock defensive gesture as Edward wailed good-naturedly, doing his best to stifle any further giggles that would ruin his stellar (not really) acting, waved his hands about a little helplessly.

“Stop receipting meee!” he squeaked.

“No! What happened to the crying emojis from this morning? Did they mean nothing to you?” she replied in an accusatory tone.

And with that, their usual banter resumed until more customers trickled in- As was in the usual Wednesday night fashion, a pattern Edward and Micaiah were both quite used to, the silence growing to a steady chatter, fingers drumming on counters and glass as the night passed. Your average Joe Wednesday.

 

The smile that Leonardo gave Edward as he left made all the difference.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
